


Tale as Old as Time

by Priestlyislove



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Priestlyislove/pseuds/Priestlyislove
Summary: When Dakota gets turned into a pig, only one scientist can turn him back, but not in the way either of them expect.





	1. Chapter 1

“I am going rogue.”

Dakota blinked. He wasn’t hoping for an apology, per se, because Cavendish wasn’t the type to apologize. He expected an eyeroll, a mumbled something, a little laugh when Dakota would slug him in the arm. That was how they rolled. Not...this. “Do you mean _that_ sarcastically?”

Cavendish did not so much as crack a smile. Dakota approached him, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you in the way that you wanted me to-“

“It’s too late for all of that now!” Cavendish snapped coldly. That caught Dakota off guard. Cavendish was not a very controlled person. His emotions were always giant and unsuppressable. He would get red in the face and scream until his voice got hoarse, or cried until he was dehydrated like a raisin. He was never contained, which made him and Dakota very different. It made Cavendish feel like Dakota didn’t feel enough; that his subdued nature meant he didn’t care.

So to see him steel himself was unnerving. Dakota swallowed, then forced a weak laugh. “O-okay, look, look, we’ve had our differences and our arguments, but at the end of the day, we always patch things up! And then it’s team davendish, or team cavota, or-eh, no one calls us that, but-but the point is, we work it out! We’re a team!”

Cavendish’s duffel landed hard on the desk, and Dakota let out a premature breath of relief, thinking he was putting it away. Instead, Cavendish unzipped it, and began shuffling through its contents. “Not this time.” Cavendish shook his head. “Not anymore.”

This felt like a joke. A cruel, sick joke. Dakota’s voice came out as a croak, “listen, Cav, I’m _sorry_ -“

“Oh, sure, I bet you’re sorry,” Cavendish’s eyes narrowed. “Sorry you couldn’t keep me fooled any longer. Sorry that I’m sick of being your plaything, your laughingstock. It’s all very clear to me now. You’ve chosen PIG over m-“ he stopped. He sighed. Dakota wanted to run over there and hug him, wipe that miserable look off his face, but his legs were frozen in place. He couldn’t move a muscle. “You’ve chosen job security over helping people. It’s fine. This never would’ve worked between us, anyway. You’re-you're a selfish, greedy-“ Cavendish found what he was looking for in his bag. Dakota knew that look in his eyes. That cruel inspiration. He reiterated, “it’s _fine_. There’s nothing wrong with-we’re just different. We never should’ve been partners. But I won’t hold that against you. In fact, I wish you the best of luck in becoming a pig agent.”

Dakota’s feeble attempts at fixing this were cut short by the zap of a gun and the sound of his clothes ripping. He made a surprised snort sound, and Cavendish erupted into giggles. “I’m sure it’s all still very tender right now, but in a few days I think you’ll appreciate the pun. Isn’t this an incredible feat of engineering? Combining the magicks of the old world-who would’ve guessed fairies are real, too?-with modern technology. It’s like a curse from a fairytale, administered by the simple pull of a trigger! It’s a shame I couldn’t stick with the agency, they do have some delightful toys.”

As Cavendish crowed deliriously, Dakota tried to make sense out of what happened to his body. He was on his hands and feet, although they weren’t hands and feet anymore. They were...hooves? Did he have hooves? He was a lot closer to the ground, and significantly chubbier. And if the tip of his elongated nose-he didn’t think it was possible to get longer than it already was-was anything to go off of, he was pink.

Dakota was snapped out of his thoughts by Cavendish giving his backside a little smack. His face burned as Cavendish chuckled, grabbing his bag off the desk. “Goodbye, old friend,” Cavendish gave a dismissive wave of his hand before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

The first thing about pigs that Dakota learned was that they could cry.

The apartment was too big, especially with Dakota’s shift in size. Cavendish had left it feeling not just empty, but long since abandoned. Desk drawers were pulled out, papers were scattered on every conceivable surface. He had left Dennis. Dakota nudged him with his snout into a sitting position.

There was a bag of chips on the floor that Cavendish must’ve dropped in his hurry. Dakota stomped on it with his front foot, making it pop open. He needed to think, to gather his thoughts and bury his feelings, and it was hard to do that on an empty stomach.

He tried to formulate a plan as he munched. He wasn’t used to making his own plans. He’d do what his boss said or what Cavendish said, just keeping his head down. The last time he had to come up with his own plan was the island. And that wasn’t much of a plan. It was slowly refined, from him just telling the other Dakota to get thoroughly lost to giving him the bus fare and boat ticket, but it wasn’t anything that complex. And it’s what anyone would’ve done for their partner.

With this unexpected heart ache, Dakota tried to eat the bag. He thought pigs could do that. Apparently he was thinking of goats, because the plastic refused to be chewed. He spat it back out. The first thing on the agenda was to find more food. Then he could make a plan.

The window was still cracked open. Dakota bet he could push it open just a smidge further then slip out. He put his front hooves up on the wall, but fell short of the window. He tried to jump for it, but it was an ungraceful and unsuccessful little hop.

He would push over a rolly chair, then climb up on it, then open the window, then climb out, then get food. Perfect.

He pushed his chair with his head, getting it right under the window. He climbed up on to it, albeit a little awkwardly. The chair lazily turned away from the window due to his movement.

“Do you boys wanna explain why I heard police sirens outside-“

Dakota froze as he heard his landlord grumbling outside the door. He hadn’t heard his walker clomp over while he was busy with the chair. He just sat there panicking as Mr. Phillips unlocked the door, his complaints falling silent as he saw the pig on the rolly chair.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then, Dakota darted for the door, slipping out between Mr. Phillips’ legs as he yelped and fell to the ground. He was probably okay.

Sweet freedom! Dakota was so excited about his liberation that he forgot all his problems. He happily trotted down the sidewalk, halting in his tracks at the corner when an ice cream truck with about fifty party streamers-with a few birds ensnared in them-went zooming by, zigzagging down the streets. Dakota thought he heard Milo’s distinct voice coming from inside the truck, as well as maniacal laughter and screams, that he could only assume belonged to Melissa and Zack, respectively.

Left in the wake of the ice cream truck was a cone upside down on the pavement, oozing vanilla goodness. Dakota was met with a very difficult decision. He knew he shouldn’t, and yet he also knew he was no longer bound by societal expectations to not eat things off the sidewalk. Those rules were for humans. Nobody would question it if he ate it.

As he leaned down to just take a _little_ bite, he was poked in the eye by something pointy. Kneeling on the other side of the corner was Doofenshmirtz, apparently struck by the same desire to eat the discarded ice cream.

“Oh, sorry, is this your ice cream?” Doofenshmirtz shifted into a sitting position. He cautiously reached out to pat Dakota’s head. “I don’t want to start any problems.”

“Hey, Dr. D,” Dakota greeted him, accepting his head pats.

“How do you know my name?” Doofenshmirtz was unfazed by a talking pig. Dakota was the surprised one. He didn’t think he’d be able to understand him.

“I’m oink. I was oink oink oinky oink,” Dakota cleared his throat. He tried again, “Wait, hang on. I’m oink? Oink.”

Doofenshmirtz just waited patiently. If their first meeting was anything to go off of, Doofenshmirtz was no stranger to talking to animals. Though between Diogee and Perry, he didn’t seem to generally get a verbal response.

Dakota thought about what Cavendish had said about it being like a fairytale curse. Maybe he was cursed so he couldn’t say who he really was. That was a bummer. Finding Doofenshmirtz would’ve been a good plan. If he could invent time travel, it wasn’t hard to imagine he could turn a pig back into a human. But it didn’t seem like Dakota was going to be able to convey his situation. He settled for a vague, “I’ve, uh, seen you around.”

“I am around,” Doofenshmirtz said thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve seen you, but I’ve been, y’know, focusing-well, that’s not true. I’m not much of a focus-er.”

Before anything else could be said on the subject-whatever the subject _was_ -a seagull swooped down and stole their ice cream, inadvertently protecting them from their own bad decisions. The look that crossed Doofenshmirtz’s face was nothing short of despair.

“Hey, buddy, it’s ok,” Doofenshmirtz consoled his equally disappointed sidewalk partner. “I’ll tell ya what-let’s go get some fresh ice cream, from a store, and that stupid bird can enjoy it’s stupid sidewalk ice cream.”

Doofenshmirtz got up and brushed his hands on his pants, then motioned for Dakota to follow him around the corner he had emerged from. As they walked, Doofenshmirtz started conversation, since he seemed incapable of dealing with silence, “I mean, I don’t even like vanilla ice cream. I don’t! It’s boring. It’s just garlic ice cream, really, without the garlic. Now that-that’s ice cream worth writing home about. I haven’t been able to find any since I’ve left Drusselstein, but I guess I could make my own. It’s just boring vanilla with garlic in it. That’s genius! Whoever invented it didn’t even make a new ice cream flavor, they just stole vanilla and got all the accolades.”

Dakota wasn’t used to talking to someone who was so chatty. He wondered if this was how he usually sounded, rambling aimlessly. It was kind of nice, listening to someone talk about something trivial instead of making speeches about the end of the world or how worthless Dakota was as a partner.

He stopped in his tracks. Cavendish. What was he doing, getting ice cream? He should be looking for Cavendish. Cavendish was alone and unprotected and...probably better off without a pig weighing him down, Dakota realized with a sinking feeling. In this form, he wouldn’t be able to save Cavendish. He’d just be a liability. Cavendish was right to ditch him.

Doofenshmirtz stopped several paces away, swiveling when he realized Dakota wasn’t walking beside him. “What is it? Oh, it’s ‘cause I mentioned peanut butter bacon ice cream? Alright. I’ll be the bigger mammal and admit that it was insensitive of me.”

“No, it’s-you’re fine,” Dakota snorted and started walking again, “bacon is delicious.”

Doofenshmirtz gasped in horror, and Dakota couldn’t help but chuckle. “Too much information. I know too much about you,” Doofenshmirtz complained, squeezing his eyes shut and waving his hands around as if that would erase the thought of cannibal pigs from his mind. “And I don’t even know your name!”

“Eh, you're the one that brought it up,” Dakota said unapologetically. Doofenshmirtz opened the door for Dakota, who nearly slipped on the tiles the second he stepped into the shop. He still had to get used to his new feet.

Doofenshmirtz walked up to the counter. “Yeah, I’ll take one scoop of cinnamon and one of mint, and he’ll have something apple related. Pigs like apples, right? I feel like I always see pigs with apples in their mouths.”

The teen behind the counter glanced between Doofenshmirtz and Dakota. She clicked her tongue, “Uh, we don’t like, allow pets in here.”

“He is not a pet, he is a _monster_ ,” Doofenshmirtz shook his head, making a disbelieving sound, “I’m sorry, I’ll never get over the fact you eat bacon. It’s seared in my brain-it’s going to haunt me!”

“S’cool, I can take my ice cream and go.” Dakota wasn’t one to cause a scene. If they wanted him to leave, he’d leave.

She wasn’t expecting him to talk, based on the way her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Doofenshmirtz didn’t notice her shock, speaking casually, “no, don’t go! I’ve been enjoying your company. I’ll see if I can work something out with the manager.”

“That’s...that’s ok,” she quickly rung them up. “You can just...yeah, I don’t want to know.”

“Why, thank you!” Doofenshmirtz paid for their treats. “I don’t know why people are scared of teens, they’re so nice!”

She made their ice creams and tried to avoid looking at Dakota at all, as if he didn’t exist so long as she couldn’t see him. She gave their cones to Doofenshmirtz and hurried to the other side of the counter, like there was an invisible customer who needed her help.

Doofenshmirtz and Dakota climbed into a booth. Doofenshmirtz put a napkin down on the table before carefully placing Dakota’s ice cream on top of it. “Thanks for buyin’ me this,” Dakota gave it a lick, “and it’s delicious, but you didn’t have to order for me.”

“Oh,” Doofenshmirtz made himself comfortable across from him, “Sorry about that, I guess I just got used to ordering for my other friend. He’s not much of a talker.” Doofenshmirtz’s smile fell. Dakota was no expert at emotions, but even he could figure out that this was a touchy subject. The silence was dispelled by Doofenshmirtz cursing when a fat droplet of ice cream fell onto his fingers, switching hands so he could lick it off. “So tell me something about yourself,” Doofenshmirtz prompted as he strategically ate his ice cream to prevent it from dripping more.

“Like what?” Dakota bit off a chunk of ice cream and gave himself a brain freeze, whimpering a little.

“Your name is a good place to start.”

“Oh. Uh…” Dakota already knew he wouldn’t be able to say his name. “How about...you guess my name, and I’ll tell you if you’re right?”

“Alright,” Doofenshmirtz shifted so he was more upright in his seat, observing Dakota very carefully. “You’re a very stately pig, so you must have a stately name. A state name, if you will.”

For a second, Dakota was terrified of Doofenshmirtz’s observational skills.

“Montana!”

Just one state off. 

“Uh, yep,” Dakota went with it. “That’s me. You’re really good at this.”

Doofenshmirtz beamed. “Nice to meet you, Montana.” He stuck out a hand to shake. Dakota laughed a little, but quickly realized Doofenshmirtz wasn’t joking, so he awkwardly stuck out a leg for Doofenshmirtz to shake. “So, are you from a farm? From outer space? Is that why you can talk?”

“No and no,” Dakota thought back to tripping his poor old landlord. “Right now, I don’t live anywhere.”

“Come stay with me!” In his excitement, Doofenshmirtz gestured too forcefully with his hand and lost the top scoop of his ice cream. He didn’t seem to notice. “We could be shedmates!”

“Shedmates?”

“I live in the shed,” Doofenshmirtz said, as if that clarified anything. As he talked, Dakota kept eating his ice cream. He didn’t even notice until he found himself chewing on the napkin. “Y’know, I’ve been so lonely without...you know who,” Dakota did not know who, “and I’ve been looking for a new buddy. Oh, this is great! We’ve got so much in common! We both like ice cream, we both can talk! That’s a solid foundation. It’s more than I had with Perry, and…!” Doofenshmirtz’s excitement faded with his slip up. He slumped down in his seat. “Look how that turned out.”

Dakota knew how he felt a little too well. “Doc, I’d love to be your shedmate.” He accepted his offer, and Doofenshmirtz brightened back up, beginning to ramble about his living situation.


	2. Chapter 2

Dakota knew how to get to Milo’s house without Doofenshmirtz’s instructions, but he had decided not to mention anything pre-curse that he wouldn’t be able to come up with an excuse for. It would just make things easier on everyone involved. Doofenshmirtz brushed off the fact that Dakota knew who he was, but it wasn’t hard to imagine most people being freaked out by it.

Dakota didn’t say much on the walk over, just the occasional affirmative statements to Doofenshmirtz’s rambling. His attention was preoccupied with trying to get a good look at Doofenshmirtz. Having seen him twice, Dakota had come to the conclusion that he always looked disheveled. His hair was a permanently tousled, bedhead mess, his eyes had bags that were nearly purple, and his posture was so bad it hurt Dakota’s back just to look at. But he wasn’t...unattractive. Sure, his looks weren’t conventional, but his sharp features and gigantic, crooked smile appealed to Dakota for reasons he probably wouldn’t ever be able to explain.

“Oh, I guess I should give you a fair warning,” Doofenshmirtz interrupted himself. He did that a lot. “Do you know Murphy’s law? It states anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. This family I’m staying with-well, Murphy’s law is more than just a theory around them. But they’re good people. Good, kind people. You won’t feel like you’re in danger.”

Dakota often worried about other people’s reactions to Murphy’s law. If he was in Danville and overheard Milo’s name, he’d stop and listen in. He had yet to hear anybody say anything worth getting into a fistfight over-which he was more than prepared to do if some creep was giving the kid trouble-but nobody _loved_ being surrounded by unrelenting chaos. So Doofenshmirtz’s explanation was sweet to him.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Dakota wasn’t concerned about being in such close proximity to Murphy’s law. He was used to going with the flow as things fell apart. All his missions would go wrong, even a thousand years before a single Murphy had been conceived. He could handle it; and if he couldn’t, Doofenshmirtz was right in suggesting no one would be able to handle it better than the Murphys. If something goes wrong, you want to be with the people who are prepared for _everything_ to go wrong.

Doofenshmirtz dug his hand into his pocket, fumbling for a key as they approached the door. Dakota realized something as he watched him, “yo, doc, do they know I’m comin’?”

“What?” Doofenshmirtz made a face that told Dakota the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” he really didn’t have to talk as much as he did with such an expressive face, “I’m sure they won’t mind. There’s a lot of folks who come and go. Like Milo’s friends-”

“Yeah, but they aren’t aiming to live here,” Dakota sat down, snuffling thoughtfully. “I don’t wanna impose-“

“You’ll be fine!” Doofenshmirtz assured him flippantly as he finally put the key in the correct way. “Aha! They should invent something easier to operate than a key. _I_ should invent something easier to operate than a key,” Doofenshmirtz’s eyes sparkled with possibility, and Dakota knew he had lost him. Cavendish would get the same look when he was solving things. He’d drown out the rest of the world, his brain full of math and equations, with no room for anything else.

They entered the living room, and Dakota suddenly became aware of the fact that he was totally nude. “I’m not wearing clothes,” he mumbled out loud. Not that he had anything against nudity, but now just didn’t seem like the right time for it. He spoke up, “you know what, doc? This wasn’t such a well thought out idea. I should go.”

Doofenshmirtz muttered something about rewiring, and he was lost, just as Dakota had feared. He snapped out of it when Milo came thundering down the stairs.

“Oh, hey Doof!” Milo smiled at them as he paused. He added, “And friend!”

“This is Montana the pig,” Doofenshmirtz gestured to Dakota. “He’s...I really don’t know a lot about you.”

“I like short walks on beaches,” Dakota supplied.

Milo walked down the rest of the stairs a little slower, passing by them to get to the couch. “I’m Milo,” he said as he flopped down on the couch. He cupped a hand over his mouth, “SARA!”

Dakota startled, but Doofenshmirtz was unaffected. He was either used to it or just unshakeable. Dakota was prone to believe the latter, since Doofenshmirtz had accepted him so readily.

“WHAT,” Sara’s voice came from upstairs, leading Dakota to wonder why they didn’t have this conversation while they were on the same level.

“I’M PUTTING ON THE ZONE FILES!”

A short pause. “JUST GIVE ME TEN MINUTES!”

“C’mon,” Doofenshmirtz nudged Dakota gently with his knee before heading into the kitchen. “I usually just go through the back, but I wanted to get some snacks.”

“Do they really make you live in the shed?” Dakota couldn’t hide his amusement at the thought.

“No, I mean, I started in the guest room,” Doofenshmirtz motioned vaguely to a different part of the house. He opened the cabinet, dodging the bag of chips that fell out. Dakota’s reflexes were not as good. “Sorry. You gotta stay on your toes in this house. Not that you, uh, have toes. I’ve adapted to the-“ Doofenshmirtz was interrupted as a box of cheezits fell out of the cabinet and hit him on the head. He tapped the box with his shoe, “ooh, grab that, I want those. Anyway, I kinda migrated to the shed. It gives me room to spread out.”

Dakota poked the box with his hoof. That wasn’t going to work. He gingerly picked it up with his mouth. Doofenshmirtz kept talking, “I still hang out in here sometimes. They’d miss me if I didn’t, and I couldn’t do that to them. Plus, it’s not safe to keep food too close to inators. One could contaminate the other. Not always in the way you’d expect! Do you want a soda?”

He switched topics so quickly it was hard for Dakota to follow. “Uh,” the cheezits fell out of his mouth when he opened it. “Sure.” He picked them back up.

Doofenshmirtz put a box of cereal and a sleeve of crackers in a large bowl, reaching down to take the cheezits back from Dakota. He took an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter and threw it in. He put the bowl on his hip and opened the fridge with his free hand. The lightbulb in the fridge sparked, and Doofenshmirtz made a sound back at it, as if he was an animal responding to a different animal trying to threaten him. He plucked up two sodas, and headed over to the back door. “Could you get the-?” He glanced down at Dakota. “No, you don’t have hands. Okay.”

Doofenshmirtz dexterously used his elbow to open the door. He motioned chivalrously for Dakota to go first.

The shed certainly looked different than Dakota remembered. The giant painted ‘Doofenshmirtz GOOD Inc’ sign was obviously different, but so was the structure. It was starting to resemble that purple eyesore of a building in downtown Danville that had vanished one day.

“Oh,” Dakota said, “that was _your_ building!”

“What?” Doofenshmirtz came over, and gave the shed door a kick. It creaked open. Doofenshmirtz seemed to relax physically the second he was inside, surrounded by odd bits and ends of strange machines.

“That ugly purple building a block from the falafel place!” Dakota clarified cheerfully.

Doofenshmirtz was too distracted by thoughts of his past to be offended. “Oh, yes, that was mine. Back when I was evil, of course. I don’t-I don’t do that anymore.”

Dakota had been wondering about that since their last meeting. “What do you mean by that? You say it like being evil is a job.”

“That’s silly,” Doofenshmirtz started rearranging the food he had taken from the house onto the available table space. He put the cereal box on top of one of his machines. “Being evil isn’t a job. Being an evil scientist is. It’s like being a regular scientist, but, you know, evil. I was pretty good at it. I never took over the world, but I had my own nemesis!”

“Nemesis?” Dakota cocked his head.

Doofenshmirtz cracked open a soda and poured it into the emptied bowl. He put it on the ground for Dakota. “Yeah! Someone to thwart my destructive behavior and be there to hurt me whenever I needed him. Hurt me in the right way, of course. There are certain ways nemeses shouldn’t hurt each other. Mine...crossed that line.” Doofenshmirtz got quiet, and Dakota thought he should say something, but Doofenshmirtz filled the silence with vigor, “But it’s fine! Who needs him? I don’t! Good guys don’t need nemeses, and I’m a good guy now.”

“That sounds crazy, dude,” Dakota tried to figure out how to drink from a bowl. The carbonation tickled his snout. “But I get where you’re coming from. I mean, I’ve never been evil-I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever been evil, but who can say for sure-and I’ve never had a nemesis but...there’s nothing wrong with needing someone.”

“I know that. I know that,” Doofenshmirtz opened the box of cheezits. He ate a handful. He talked with a full mouth, spraying crumbs, “but I don’t need him. I’ve got plenty of other people-and animals-who care about me and will spend time with me without getting _paid_ to do it.”

Clearly, there was a story there. “Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Doofenshmirtz said quickly, stuffing his face with more cheezits. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

“I get that.” Dakota laughed. Not at him, but with him. It wasn’t a mean laugh. It wasn’t even that much of a funny laugh. He looked around to try to find a different conversation topic, “how about you tell me what all these machines are for.”

“My inators?” Doofenshmirtz perked up, putting down the cheezits. “These are mostly do-goodinators, because that’s what I do now, but some are evil inators that I’m salvaging for parts. So don’t turn anything on. Even if it is a do-goodinator, they’re a little unpredictable.” Doofenshmirtz sucked the salt off his fingers before picking up an inator, “This is what I’m currently working on. I mean, I don’t work on one at a time, that would be creative suicide, but this is my big project. For the moment.”

“Uh huh,” Dakota tried to keep up, “so what’s it do?”

“It’s an anthropoungulatinator!” Doofenshmirtz held it up proudly. 

Dakota blinked helplessly. The one time he needed Doofenshmirtz to ramble on was the one time he was keeping it simple. Dakota prompted him to continue his explanation, “It’s a….?”

“Anthropo-ungulate-inator,” Doofenshmirtz broke it into still unhelpful chunks. “It turns people into ungulates.” Doofenshmirtz put the inator down and picked up the soda bowl, to Dakota’s surprise and confusion. He slurped some and put it back down. As he reached for the cheezits box, something caught his eye and he laughed, “oh, that’s right, I got my own soda.”

Dakota waddled around the bowl and sat down closer, which Doofenshmirtz understood as him wanting some food, so he held out the apple. “What’s an un...undo...ungoolate?” Dakota asked before taking the apple in his mouth.

“Well, you!” Doofenshmirtz booped his snout. Dakota snuffled. “Ungulates are hooved animals. They’re sturdier and faster than humans, so I think my inator will really help people get stuff done.”

If only he had built the reverse, Dakota thought as he chewed. Dakota had never eaten a whole apple before. It was satisfying to be able to cross that off his list of things he’s never eaten. “Is it safe for me to eat apple seeds?” He wondered out loud.

“Eh, I’m not that kind of doctor,” Doofenshmirtz responded noncommittally. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you from the future?”

_Holy shit_. Dakota’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?” He tried to keep his cool, but his voice wavered, betraying the fact he was five seconds from freaking out.

Doofenshmirtz sorority squatted next to him. “Are you a human-turned-pig?”

_Holy._

_Shit._

Doofenshmirtz started intensely at him, his eyes calculating. It was like he was piercing his soul with his gaze, taking him apart layer by layer. Dakota did not move a hair. Doofenshmirtz reached his hands out, and Dakota’s heart stopped beating altogether. Somehow his mind was both running a mile a minute and completely blank.

Doofenshmirtz pinched his cheeks and laughed, “What a funny face you were making! I was just asking in case you’re someone who used my inator and came back to stop me from making it. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Dakota breathed again. He still felt a little shaken up. “No, no.” He shook his head. “I didn’t get zapped by any of your inators.” He stopped when he realized that might not be true. Doofenshmirtz might’ve invented the machine that Cavendish used on him. He was going to become a famous inventor, after all. He added, “as far as I know.”

“And you’ve always been a pig,” Doofenshmirtz said it like he was finishing Dakota’s sentence. He straightened up-or at least, returned to his usual terrible posture-and grabbed another handful of cheezits. “You know, I’m actually the one who’s gonna invent time travel!”

Dakota made himself comfortable. He had a feeling he was going to be staying like this for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

Dakota dreamt of transmogrification. When it happened, it had been quick and it hadn’t hurt. But in his subconscious’ funhouse of anxiety and fears, the memory warped. He could feel his bones cracking, his skin crawling, his organs rearranging. He could see Cavendish’s cold eyes. Cavendish changed in his dreams, too. He became a huge silver wolf, his eyes calculating and his smile hungry. Dakota woke up when he sunk his fangs into his side.

He didn’t remember where he was at first. A tight space, with blinking lights and whirring machines surrounding him. Doofenshmirtz’s lab. Or, the Murphy’s shed. He let out a breath, settling back down on the little nest of pillows and blankets Doofenshmirtz had put on the floor for him. Doofenshmirtz lay in a hammock, dangling precariously over inators that if not disintegrating him if he should fall would at least hurt like falling from a height into scrap metal tends to. It was almost like trust, him sleeping soundly over his weapons of mass destruction. Cavendish needed a wall of pillows between him and Dakota. Was Dakota more dangerous than all these machines?

Or maybe Doofenshmirtz was just stupid.

Dakota didn’t want to go back to sleep. He got up, pushing against the door with his side. Luckily it didn’t close quite right, being a shed door that belonged to the Murphys, so he was able to get it open just fine. The night air felt good on his skin. It was starting to warm up again. Winter was passing. He breathed in and out, trying to focus on the transition. All the bad feelings clumped up inside of him would pass, too. He just had to be patient.

“Oh, hi!”

He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see where the little voice had come from. He looked around the yard before realizing that his night vision wasn’t quite what it used to be. He couldn’t see very far. He tried to just walk in the direction it seemed to come from. He perked up when he saw Milo curled up in a lawn chair. He was wearing a big t shirt and sweatpants, and his feet were bare. Diogee was snoozing away in his lap. “Hey, kid,” Dakota matched his quiet tone, “whatcha doin’ out so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Milo smiled at him. “Sometimes when I have a bad dream, being outside helps me relax.”

“No kidding, something must be going around. Mercury must be in retrograde or somethin’. I was never the astrology type, so I couldn’t tell ya, but my friend would always blame any kind of bad luck on the planets.” Dakota snorted, joining Milo in looking at the stars. They sat in stillness for a while, just enjoying the quiet. “You wanna talk about it?”

“My dream?” Milo asked softly, and a gentle look crossed his face when Dakota nodded. “I couldn’t bother you with something like that. I barely know you!”

“Yeah, I’m new. I’m new in your life. Right.” Dakota said, more to himself than anything. He spoke a little louder, but still kept his voice hushed, “It’s alright. I’m a pretty good listener. I’m here mooching off your family, the least I can do is hear what’s got you out here, freezing your butt off.”

Milo giggled when he said ‘mooching,’ and Dakota’s heart ached that funny way it did when the kids did something particularly cute or made him proud. It ached like he was a mother in mourning. A baby. He wanted a baby. He wanted to settle down with Cavendish and raise a kid together. And it felt so possible, so _real_ when they ended up in the 21st century. They had saved a world for their child to live in, they had steady, simple jobs and an apartment that was all theirs. Dakota had betrayed himself, imagining what domestic life would be like. That didn’t seem too likely anymore.

“It’s a hard dream to explain,” Milo petted Diogee, bringing Dakota back to the present. “It’s...it’s like a whirlwind of disaster swallows me up. And nobody can...they can’t reach me. If they get close, they get hurt. No one can touch me. And every time-whenever I have this dream-all I really want is a hug. I feel so trapped and alone. It’s really scary.”

“Sounds like it.” Dakota snuffled sympathetically, and Milo reached over to pet him too. He got up and sat down a little closer to make it easier. He was lucky he did, because right where he was sitting, about twenty five peanuts fell from the sky. They waited to see if anything was going to follow. Nothing did. “Do you feel lonely, Milo?”

“No!” Milo said quickly. “Not at all! I’ve got great friends who would stick with me through anything, and my family is so supportive, and I make new friends all the time!” Milo gave him a pat to show he was talking about him. “And I meet so many people who are so nice to me, who try to help me when disaster strikes even though they don’t know me. I guess...I think it’s more I’m scared of losing that.”

“Milo, I don’t think your nightmare is ever gonna happen. I promise, and I don’t make a lot of promises. I just know-no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone, not really. All these people care about you, and they’re not gonna stop when things get rough. That’s not-it doesn’t work like that. Do you stop loving your friends when they’re struggling with something? Even when it’s a really big something?” He paused to give Milo a chance to slowly shake his head. “That’s right, nothing changes. You still love them. And they love you back. Even if they can’t physically hold you, you’re in their hearts. And no cyclone of destruction or hurricane of calamity is stronger than that, right?”

“Right.” Milo gathered up his dog in his arms. Diogee did not stir. “I think I’m ready to go back to bed.”

“Good. If you don’t get enough sleep, you’ll stay that tall forever. Is that what you want? No, that’s right, get inside.” Dakota nudged him as he giggled. Milo tried to open the screen door, but it fell right off its hinges. He managed to slip in through the wood door without it breaking, thankfully, and Dakota headed back towards the shed.

He went back for those sky peanuts, though. No reason to waste good food.

In the morning, Doofenshmirtz was energetic. He just seemed to have a lot of energy in general. He made coffee in what resembled a coffee pot for the most part, but the end result was an off green color. That did not prevent Doofenshmirtz from drinking it.

“What are we up to today?” Dakota asked as Doofenshmirtz searched his jumble of clothes for the least destroyed lab coat. They were all singed and torn and stained with odd colors. Dakota bet there was a story behind each mark.

“I’m going to tinker with the bubblinator, because I was struck with an idea last night while asleep, as if delivered by divine intervention,” Doofenshmirtz gestured wildly with the hand that wasn’t digging through his dirty laundry.

“Someone slept well,” Dakota commented. It was always weird to have a very different nighttime experience than the person who laid no less than three feet away from you.

He pulled on the coat he had decided upon. “I’m planning a three hour frustration break somewhere in today’s schedule, during which we’ll steal the couch and watch whatever soap happens to be on. You don’t need to know what happened previously, they’re always non sequitur.”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Dakota said, but didn’t push it. This was not a hill he was willing to die on.

“I meant to ask you this earlier,” Doofenshmirtz turned around with flair. Seeing him in his getup with a little more confidence and vigor solidified the evil villain look for Dakota. Before, he thought Doofenshmirtz’s style was lacking the pizzazz of the villains Dakota was familiar with from the big screen, but now he could see it. “I didn’t, though, because I don’t want to make the assumption that _all_ animals are-but I think it’s something I have the right to know, you know?”

“No,” Dakota said plainly, having no idea what Doofenshmirtz was talking about.

“Are you an agent of OWCA? Like, with the little hat?” Doofenshmirtz pantomimed putting in a fedora.

“I don’t know what that means,” Dakota continued to stare blankly at him.

Doofenshmirtz seemed to relax a little, his shoulders lowering incrementally. He smiled. “Ok. Yeah, I was just thinking-why would a pig want to hang out with a guy like me? And I was worried that maybe-I didn’t want this to turn out like…” Doofenshmirtz plopped down in his desk chair, and it creaked with the force. His expression got far away. “Why are we hanging out, anyway?”

Dakota paused to think momentarily. “Why not?”

“I mean, do you ever think about that? Why does anyone hang out? What do we have to gain by forming connections? What’s the evolutionary benefit of having friends? What good does loyalty do us? It’s weird.” Doofenshmirtz scrunched up his face.

“It’s fun,” Dakota supplied easily. “It makes us happy. Why wouldn’t we wanna have friends?”

“You’re very easy going,” Doofenshmirtz noted, picking up a pencil from the table and pointing it at him for effect. “I wish I could think as little as you do.”

“That didn’t super feel like a compliment.”

Doofenshmirtz started chewing the tip of the pencil. “I just never got it and I hate things I don’t get. I want to figure them out. Why are people drawn to other certain people? What makes other people not good enough for their attention? Why do some people like each other so much and then one day-don’t? Why are we shedmates, out of everyone in the world who could be living in a shed together?”

“Most people don’t live in sheds, so, you know. That number’s probably not that big.” Dakota put his head in his lap. “I like you. You’re my friend. Does it really matter how?”

Doofenshmirtz sighed down at him. “Listen, Montana, I don’t want to mislead you. I don’t know how many humans you’ve interacted with. I’m not actually a very functional person.”

“You didn’t have to tell me. I could-I could tell, through like, context clues.”

Doofenshmirtz pinched his cheek. “Don’t sass me. I just want you to know if you’d rather have a better shedmate, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“We are probably the only shedmates in the whole-you know what? Never mind. What matters is I’m happy to hang out with you, doc. I don’t want to hang out with anybody else.” That was an itsy bitsy lie. Of course Dakota would rather be with Cavendish. It didn’t even feel like a lie, because that exception felt so obvious. It was like when people say that people should do whatever makes them happy. They don’t need to clarify that if murder makes you happy, you shouldn’t do that, because duh.

Doofenshmirtz flashed him a smile, but couldn’t maintain it. He scratched behind Dakota’s ear, and Dakota wagged his tail. He didn’t know he could do that. “He was my best friend,” Doofenshmirtz snapped his attention away from his tail with a defeated heave of his chest. “But he only hung around for his paycheck. And I never-I didn’t even know.”

“I kinda know how you feel,” Dakota closed his eyes, too at peace from the ear scritches to become terribly sad over Cavendish again.

“My wife and I are divorced, my best friend got paid to babysit me. It makes me feel like meeting people is pointless.” Doofenshmirtz spoke hollowly.

“Oh, come on,” Dakota cracked an eye open to look at him. “It can’t have all been for nothin’. The good memories you made are still good, right? Something positive still came out of your relationships.”

“Vanessa,” Doofenshmirtz did not clarify who or what a Vanessa was, but saying that seemed to put him in a better mood. “You’re a lot smarter than you seem, pig.”

“Again, that doesn’t feel like-that’s not a compliment.”


	4. Chapter 4

The hours turned into days, slowly at first, and then picking up steam like an old fashioned train. Dakota had not seen an old fashioned train in a while. He found he didn’t miss time travel as much as he thought he would. It had almost been too many options. It was nice to sit back and let the world decide whether it would rain or snow, whether it was shorts season or coats, whether it was morning or evening. Cavendish would always skip them over thunderstorms because it was hard to be productive when they happened, but Dakota liked them. The sound of thunder was like a bowling alley, and the lightning lit up the room like a noir film. Wind would shake the shed, and Dakota would imagine it flying off its hinges. Maybe it would take him and Doofenshmirtz with, and set them back down in a foreign land. This daydream transitioned from imagining them flying through the air in their mini house to them starting a life somewhere else, doing things too painfully dull and domestic for a daydream. It gave Dakota the sinking feeling that it wasn’t the adventure part of being Cavendish’s partner that he missed.

Doofenshmirtz spent a lot of time inventing, but more time eating, and even more time lounging around. A usual day involved waving Milo off to school before Doofenshmirtz woke up at noonish. Dakota would get a snack from the kitchen before he woke up.

Mrs. Murphy had spotted him wandering in the backyard when she was letting Diogee out. Dakota explained he was kind of living with them, and she did not even blink when he started talking. The Murphys really were prepared for anything. He went on to say she’s free to boot him to the curb because he really doesn’t want to intrude, but instead she offered to give him some breakfast. This was much appreciated.

So Dakota would be let into the kitchen as Diogee was let out, wave Milo off to school and eat some toast with Mrs. Murphy. She was very friendly. Milo got his smile from her. Then she’d get to work, and Dakota would return to the shed just as Doofenshmirtz was struggling out of his hammock. They’d go to the kitchen together, having lunch and preparing snacks for their busy afternoon. It was strange being in the kitchen with Milo just briefly in the morning and being in it without him in the afternoon. Just five minutes of him could cause a lot of debris. Mrs. Murphy had to rescue Dakota a few times from various things falling (and once, rising). Still, he was such a bright presence, Dakota couldn’t help but feel relaxed around him.

They’d bring their snacks into the living room and watch tv for a few hours. Doofenshmirtz had convinced Dakota to lay on him while they watched. That way, if Mrs. Murphy came by and asked him to do something like pick up his socks off the floor, he could motion helplessly to the animal in his lap as an excuse for not doing it. Dakota was worried he’d be too heavy. It seemed that the benefits outweighed the costs for Doofenshmirtz.

Doofenshmirtz was a very emphatic viewer. He would yell things at the tv, he would gasp, he would cry, he would laugh so loud sometimes the neighbors would knock on the door and check to make sure he wasn’t having some rare form of stroke. At first, his reactions were jarring, but Dakota started to enjoy them as much as he enjoyed the actual shows.

And then Doofenshmirtz would jolt beneath him, and Dakota would hop off so he could dash back to the shed as he spouted his half formed ideas. He always said them out loud, so if he forgot what he was doing in the middle of doing it, Dakota would be able to repeat back what he said, more or less, and remind him. Dakota would shut off the tv for him and grab whatever snacks remained, following at a slower pace. There wasn’t much for him to do when Doofenshmirtz was working. He mostly just watched. He’d ask a couple of questions, and get answers he didn’t understand. He still found it interesting. Doofenshmirtz could build these incredible, intricate machines out of what looked like garbage, all because he saw a commercial that reminded him of something that transpired when he was a kid.

He talked at lengths about his past. It was pretty messed up stuff, but talking seemed to make him feel better, so Dakota just took the opportunity to work on his listening skills.

Once Doofenshmirtz was done, whether it was because he finished it or just got bored or frustrated, they would go back to watching tv until Sara kicked them out because she wanted to watch something. Then, they’d just kind of sit around outside, eating more. Doofenshmirtz might show off an inator’s abilities, or do a little more tinkering. Sometimes they got visitors. Melissa and Zack popped out of the house a couple times, looking for something that jetted through a window. The adult Murphys would check on them to make sure they were eating enough (which is hardly a question worth posing to them) and nothing has exploded over there. One time the man who lives in the sewers tried to eat Dakota. The fact that he could talk did not deter him.

They usually stayed up pretty late, and then it was just rinse and repeat.

It had rained in the morning, and Mrs. Murphy brought out an umbrella to meet him.

“You’re nice people,” These little acts of kindness were really making a softie out of him. He wasn’t used to people acting like this, treating him so thoughtfully. Images of the bureau flashed through his mind, of the glares he got in return for greetings and the snickers while he was still in earshot. “I think the world would be a lot nicer if everyone had parents like you and the mister.”

“Oh, we do what we can,” Mrs. Murphy said humbly as she led Dakota inside. He tried to wipe his hooves off first. “It helps to have such good kids.”

The rain had stopped by the time Doofenshmirtz woke up, and Dakota carefully traversed the backyard, trying not to stomp in the mud. He didn’t want to track dirt into the house. Doofenshmirtz disapproved.

“Did you just go the long way around that mud puddle?” He said with too much disbelief, like he was asking if Dakota had murdered someone. “Why are you denying yourself a simple carnal pleasure that is so intrinsically woven into your very dna?”

Dakota understood maybe two words of that. “Don’t wanna track mud in the house,” he responded simply.

Doofenshmirtz wasn’t buying it. “You don’t have to be shy. Just think, that rain could’ve been snow, but it wasn’t. The clouds could’ve passed by and rained on Shelbyville, but they didn’t! It rained _here_ , today, the perfect amount, so you could roll in the mud.”

“Oh,” Dakota smiled, relieved to understand what was happening. “You want me to roll in the mud?”

“I don’t want you to, you want you to.” Doofenshmirtz pointed at him with a knowing expression. “It’s in your nature. There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, I think it’s a beautiful thing.” Doofenshmirtz took off his lab coat, letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground. “Here, I’ll do it with you, so you don’t feel embarrassed.”

Now Dakota was _actually_ understanding. Doofenshmirtz just wanted an excuse to roll in mud. “Lead the way, doc.”

Doofenshmirtz belly flopped onto a mud puddle. Dakota squeezed his eyes shut when little bits of mud sprayed everywhere. He toddled over and gave the mud an experimental sniff before he rolled onto his back. He wiggled a little. It did feel nice.

After rolling around until they were satisfied, Doofenshmirtz got up and headed towards the house. “Uh,” Dakota squirmed his way back onto his feet, “shouldn’t we wash off first or somethin’?”

Before Doofenshmirtz could respond, there was a shout from the window, “oh, no you don’t!”

Out came Sara, still in her Dr Zone pajamas. She slept in as late as Doofenshmirtz did most days. She held a broom like a bo staff and glared Doofenshmirtz down, “Mom is going to get mad at _me_ if you get mud on the furniture! I am not letting you inside!”

“Well we have to get inside to use the shower,” Doofenshmirtz scoffed. It suddenly occurred to Dakota that neither he nor Doofenshmirtz had showered since this whole thing began. He had the decency to feel shameful, but Doofenshmirtz held his ground. “And mom will get mad at you if we stay filthy all day because you wouldn’t let us get clean.”

It was this bratty side of Doofenshmirtz that really reminded Dakota of Cavendish. The petulant stubbornness, the impossible games. Part of him felt like this was his chance to do it again and get it all right, but that was a silly thought. What he had with Doofenshmirtz amounted to nothing. It was just _fun_ , like rolling around in the mud. He and Cavendish had meant something together, and they were going to be together again. They always worked things out. This time wouldn’t be different.

Doofenshmirtz and Sara started circling. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Oh, I’ll get you clean, alright,” Sara said darkly as she imperceptibly lowered a hand onto the hose. She quickly threw the broom aside, and the movement distracted Doofenshmirtz and gave her time to twist on the nozzle and take aim.

Doofenshmirtz screamed like he was being shot as Sara blasted him with the hose. He ran fast, but Sara was faster. Suddenly, she turned on Dakota, laughing maniacally, “don’t think you’re safe, either!”

In the end, the hose water made more mud and Sara slipped a couple of times-not to mention once or twice Doofenshmirtz threw mud at her-so she ended up the dirtiest of them all. Mrs. Murphy laid down a trail of towels like a red carpet of shame leading to the bathroom.

“Doof, hey, Doof,” Dakota pulled on his pant leg with his teeth as he tried to take that walk to the shower. “Rinse me with the hose first, man. I can’t use the shower.”

Doofenshmirtz slipped off his shoes outside to minimize the risk of getting mud inside. Mrs. Murphy ran a tight ship. “It’s easy,” Doofenshmirtz promised him dismissively, “you just stand there and gravity does all the work.”

“But I can’t turn it on!” He called after him as Doofenshmirtz went up the stairs. He continued pointlessly, “c’mon, man!”

He tried to shake off some mud before going in. It wasn’t very successful. He sighed and resigned himself to waiting for Doofenshmirtz to get out and hose him off like he asked.

Before it came to that, Mrs. Murphy came over. “Alright, dear, it’s your turn.”

“Oh, uh, I appreciate it, ma’am, but I don’t want to mess up your house with my muddy feet,” he lifted a front hoof to demonstrate, “and I’m not-I don’t think I’d be able to climb into the tub. I’ll just have the doc hose me off.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Murphy said before bending over and picking Dakota up, which made him oink in surprise. She grunted, but showed no other sign of difficulty. “Let’s get you washed up.”

Dakota came to terms with the fact that the Murphys were terrifying and probably not entirely human as she was drying him off with a clean towel.

 


End file.
